


Surrogate

by TheTVJunkie



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Alcoholism, Bullying, Complete, Compound V, Drugs, Everybody Here is So Freaking Corrupted, F/M, Lactation Kink, Living Life On Edge, Mind fuckery, Morals? What Morals?, More Tags to Be Added as the Story Unfolds, Mummy Issues, NSFW, Probably Premature Ejaculation, Psychological Manipulation, Shapeshifting (sort of), This is at least as fucked up as the awesome show, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vaginal Sex, Violence, blasphemy?, deviant sex, dub-con, oedipus complex, sociopathic tendencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2020-09-19 05:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20325526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTVJunkie/pseuds/TheTVJunkie
Summary: Being a supe is the wet dream of many self-proclaimed do-gooders out there. Walking the righteous path while wallowing in pleasant complacency while they are worshipped like Gods. Little does the public know that behind the shiny veneer lurks a cesspool of iniquity, corruption, and depraved debauchery. Some supes withstand the temptation, others succumb to it all too gladly. Siren is one of the latter.





	1. Siren

****Disclaimer:** **This story is based on characters of "The Boys", created by Garth Ennis and owned by whoever may hold the rights in this very moment you're reading this, various publishers including but not limited to Amazon Prime and their corporate affiliates. All recognisable characters are copyrighted by their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is made off this fic. This transformative work was written for entertainment only.

**A/N:** This new fandom requires a bending of preexisting rules for me. So far I outright refused to write OCs since, from what I've read, they usually turn out to be ridiculous, embarrassing Mary Sues/self-inserts that, as a reader, makes you want to pour bleach in your eyes in a fruitless attempt of unseeing what you just read. The creation of Siren (First-person POV) as the main OC protagonist could not be avoided in order for this fic to work. Though, I tried my best to make her relatable for everyone and avoid the pitfalls of stupid clichès that often come with OCs. I think Siren is just as fucked up and sociopathic enough as to fit into "The Boys" general dynamics nicely. But see for yourself.

Furthermore, those of you who have not followed my other stories over the years should be given a fair warning: My stories usually are very dark and disturbing, graphic, sometimes pretty violent, psychologically twisted and most of all - sexually deviant and unashamedly explicit. If that's not your cup of tea LEAVE NOW. Heed the damn tags. Proceed at your own peril. You have been warned. 

* * *

"Oh shit, I'm sorry!" My glass shattered into glittering pieces as it hit the marble floor. "I didn't see you, I swear." The sweet blond girl that had just bumped into me apologised profusely.

I accepted the napkin she offered me and dabbed off the red wine that had stained my blouse.

"Never mind," I replied tonelessly. "I didn't like that blouse anyway. Shows way too much cleavage for my taste." Frowning, I grabbed a new glass of Red wine from a passing by waiter's tray. "Like most of these ridiculous Vought outfits geared to the media, but whom am I telling that..." I concluded, pointing at her revamped, revealing outfit that made her look more of a go-go dancing stripper than a serious super heroine.

A blush crept on her cheek as the Midwestern young woman nervously fiddled with the zipper of her neckline. "Yah, it indeed needs a little getting used to, I guess." She smiled coyly as she reached out and shook my hand. "By the way, I'm Starlight. Nice to meet you.

"Nice to meet you too, Starlight, I'm Siren."

Seconds of awkward silence ticked away, hence, much against my natural disposition, I initiated some small talk after downing my glass of wine. Gods, how I hate those stupid parties.

"So… Starlight, what is it like to be trending like crazy on social media for being the new Seven superstar? I have it on good authority that The Deep is green with envy from tip to gill." I tilted my head towards his direction where Deep was engrossed in conversation with some people from the PR apartment.

The moment Starlight spotted her new colleague in the crowd her face instantly darkened. "I…I…umm…so far it didn't exactly live up to my expectations," she struggled for words, averting her gaze.

I raised a suspicious eyebrow and put my hand on her forearm sympathetically, my eyes darting back and forth between her and The Deep. "That little fucker did something to you, did he not?" I asked bluntly and Starlight's eyes widened in shock.

"No, no, it's nothing! Just forget what I said, I'm really grateful to be given this chance and honour to be here and…"

I narrowed my eyes. "Bullshit," I cut her short, maybe a little too harshly. "I bet that needy ass clown has coerced you into some sexual favour, am I right?" I waved the waiter over for another drink.

Starlight flinched away from my well-meant touch of support as if burned, horror evident in her croaky voice. "Are you reading my mind?"

"What? No, relax girl, I'm nothing like Mesmer. My powers, as inconspicuous as they are at first glance, are different." Starlight looks at me blankly. "I can sense and manipulate emotions quite effectively. Create illusions that make you see what you want to see. Or what _I want_ _you to see_. It's not as good as Doppelganger's shapeshifting, but," I chuckled ominously. If only she knew. "It sure has its merits. Just like the mythical Greek magical creature I can, for example, lure people into death or let them do other crazy stuff without too much effort. Thus, the name Siren. Much to my dismay though, that only works with humans. Or weaker supes like Deep." Gulping down the remainder of my wine, I add flatly, "Besides, it's a no-brainer as to what Deep probably tricked you into, it's…some sort of sick and twisted initiation ritual. Consider yourself lucky you were alone with him."

"Why would I_,_" Starlight breathed, adorably oblivious to the bigger picture. "What do you mean _lucky you were alone with him_???"

I prevented further inquiry with a dismissive wave of my hand. "Don't rake your pretty little head over _what ifs_; I'm sure it wasn't anything personal, dearie. Deep, for once not at the bottom of the pecking order, simply jumped at the chance of slyly making sure to take advantage of you before you realised that you could have fried his tiny shrimp in a split second. I doubt he will approach you ever again."

Starlight blinked rapidly as realisation slowly started sinking in. I waved for another glass of wine

"With all respect, but haven't you had enough wine already?" Blondie asked, her forehead wrinkling in concerned unease. "You know your liver…"

"Nah, my liver doesn't give two shits about how much I drink," I interrupted her again and downed at least half of my latest alcoholic beverage for emphasis. "I might not have your ability of invincibility, or be gifted with a stylish spandex costume for that matter, but I heal insanely fast."

"Look," I tried to distract her, my voice starting to slur. "Thanks to my powers I can do fun things like this!" That said, I uninhibitedly shouted across the room. "Hey, Deep!"

Pretty much all heads of the party guests turned towards us, including The Deep who blanched visibly at the sight of Starlight and me enjoying a drink together. _Talking_. He immediately tried to bolt, but to no avail; my mind control made him stay rooted to the spot. A string of profanity fell from his lips, leaving the audience gasping. Much to my enjoyment.

"Yo, fish boy! Why are you slapping yourself?" I shouted again, watching with wicked amusement as he _indeed_ slapped himself across the face. I made sure it was hard slaps; from where I was standing he totally deserved it. It felt good to hear Starlight burst into hearty, liberating laughter. She looked at me, eyes sparkling with joy before whispering in conspiratorial glee, "Can you make him cluck like a chicken?" 

"Sure, no prob…" I was just about to follow her bidding gladly when a hiss next to my ear made me stop dead in my tracks.

"Enough of this, Siren." Madelyn Stillwell demanded in her no-nonsense voice.

She then turned to Starlight, "_You_ stay away from her," Stillwell warned. "Siren is…a bad influence for you. I don't want to see you corrupted in your first week at Vought."

I bit my tongue not to snort at that oxymoron. Being part of Vought and _not_ be corrupted? Hell, she out of all people should know nothing could be further from the truth.

"Or any other time for that matter," The lady boss bellowed. "We need you to be the epitome of purity and virtue. We _need_ those bible belt lemmings and rednecks to adore you like a goddess in order to make you profitable for us! Prove yourself worthy. We _own_ you, Starlight. Never forget that."

At me, Stillwell glared daggers. "And you, wannabe-witch, release Deep from your curse at an instant. Will you never learn to act your age? Maeve would never,"

I groaned at the mention of Miss Perfect Queen Maeve.

Stillwell shook her head, clearly disapproving. She snatched a bottle of bubbly from a nearby champagne cooler and pressed it against my chest, waiting for me to accept it. I did.

"Here, happily indulge in your vices but make sure you do it elsewhere."

She then turned on her heel and sashayed away without bothering to look back, leaving behind a sheepish Starlight and an eye-rolling me.

"Whatever." I shrugged, turning my attention to The Deep who still kept slapping himself, but at a more moderate interval as before. Grudgingly, I loosened my control over him, blowing him a sardonic kiss in response when he immediately raised both his middle fingers, accompanied by a resounding "Fuck you!"

* * *

**A/N**: Now that you got a first impression of Siren, I'd appreciate your opinion! :) Coming up next: A somewhat unhealthy bargain with Homelander. Lemons and violence ahead.


	2. One Opportunistic Bitch to Another

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Real life has a nasty habit of getting in the way all the time. Be warned - Siren proves to be a bit offensive here, even towards the reader. ;) Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

"Christ, do you ever bother to knock?" I snarled when I woke with a start, my question rather rhetorical as I already knew it would be completely ignored anyway. Stifling a yawn, I reached for the bottle of whiskey next to me, not so surprisingly, almost empty after my earlier passing out on the settee. Boozing has proven to be quite a Sisyphean challenge when your powers prevent your brain and body from revelling in the intoxicating, addicting heights of alcohol and drugs as the effect wears off way too quickly. Being sober sucks.<strike></strike>

"You know, sometime I'm going to throttle that little, useless shit," Homelander seethed, angrily tossing the small bag he carried on the plush cushions of the couch opposite to mine.

Wordlessly, I handed over the whiskey bottle; watching him slump down on the worn out seating accommodation. Gone was the saccharine smile he fools the public with so expertly, gone the fake Christian poster boy image as he ranted on about Teddy, Stillwell's annoying baby. Jealousy, bitter envy and sheer hatred oozed from him in hectic waves, emotions so strong that I didn't even need to bother trying to use my special senses in order to detect or tamper with them.

While still listening intently, I seized the paper bag; rummaging around its contents until I produced a small collection of phials. A bluish-turquoise powder sat in two of them and I smiled to myself. Uncorking it with nimble fingers, I cautiously emptied one phial on the low glass table before me, dividing it into lines with one of the credit cards from my nearby purse. I rolled a one hundred-dollar-bill and inhaled the powder with a thrill of anticipation; the moment the drug hits my nasal passage I can't wait for the couple of minutes it will take to kick in to be over. Whilst the years I've pretty much been on everything; from cocaine to heroin to strong pain killers like Fentanyl and back again, you name it. Been there, done that. Next. But this Compound V, let me tell you, now this is the good shit!

Snorting it has the advantage of achieving a faster onset of the desired effect which was, at least in my case, crucial. This way it is almost immediately absorbed into the bloodstream, giving me an actual chance of getting really high before the effect inevitably wears off frustratingly fast.

Contentedly, I settled back against the backrest of my cosy settee, watching Homelander follow suit and snort his lines rather than injecting it due to his impenetrable skin. There was something deliciously ironic about seeing this invincible, almost almighty being indulging in something as reprehensible as doing drugs like a mere, lowly human.

Everybody has their demons. And, despite common belief, supes have proven to be no exception.

Slowly getting giddy with excitement, I remembered that there was a third, bigger phial.

"So, what's this?" I questioned curiously, holding the item up for closer inspection. All I could vaguely spot in the dim-lit room is that it was liquid, pearly-white and opaque.

"That," Homelander replied with uncharacteristic reluctance. "Is for you to take a third of every day until it's used up."

"Yeah, but what does it do?" I inquired. Once again, long, silent seconds ticked away before he continued. "I will make you lactate." Homelander deadpanned.

I raised an amused brow. "Lactate? Gee, that's kinky." I couldn't help but bat my lashes at him in feigned indignation. "I wonder where you got that idea from, am I right to assume…" I left the rest of the sentence hanging midair as I pretty damn well knew where this was coming from.

A brief flash of red in his eyes gave me enough of a warning as to not rile him up further; he seemed to be in an exceedingly foul mood today. Jibes at Stillwell's expense were a privilege Homelander considered only to be bestowed on him, and him alone. Thus, I raised my hands in surrender, painfully aware that not even my extraordinary self-healing abilities could counteract being lasered. The end. Curtains for me.

"Nevermind," I purred conciliatorily whilst I safely stowed the phial away. "Luckily kinky is my middle name. Can't wait to try it out." That dairy cow upgrade better be worth my while! 

"Meanwhile though, I take it we have more pressing matters to attend to, don't we?" I implied, a sultry tone to my voice as I let the illusion unfurl. My physique fluidly changed into the very image of Madelyn Stillwell. Voice included.

"Come on big boy," I then provoked him deliberately, "Time to play." I flash him a disarming smile. "Hit me, if you can."

It took him a few moments to react; the inner struggle palpable, but once that line was crossed there's no way back. It became a ritual of sorts; an assortment of unhealthy coping mechanisms that, despite how sick and twisted that they were, granted Homelander a brief reprieve, some peace of mind for a little while.

"I don't have all day," I pressed tauntingly, "Myra is already on her way back from kindergarten with Teddy…"

Of course, it's all lies, just another layer of twisted manipulation in this game and the mere mentioning of the baby promptly triggers the expected reaction.

The first punch hit me right in the face and I felt my lower jaw brake with a cringe-worthy cracking sound. If the real Madelyn had been in my shoes at that moment the brute force of that hit would probably have decapitated her.

"Don't you dare speak of that parasite in my presence?" Homelander fumed, aiming yet another blow at me while my fractured jaw grew together within a heartbeat. "You're supposed to take care of ME and no fat, dribbling cherub!"

He kept venting his rage on me; both vocally and physically. Thereby, accompanied by a crude verbal lashing, he, amongst others, dislocated one of my knees and a shoulder, sprained both wrists with his iron grip and finally sent me crashing against a wall. My blood was everywhere.

The impact knocked the wind out of me, and for a moment I saw stars as a result of the hard concussion. I sank to the floor, but before I knew what was happening, I got pulled up by my hair and smashed against the wall once more. Then, effortlessly lifted by just one arm, Homelander's gloved hand tightened around my throat, not quite managing to actually suffocate me, but close enough for me to almost faint.

And then the temper tantrum was over. His grasp on my throat loosened and I breathed a sigh of relief. Homelander just stared at me blankly, watching with rapt attention as the bloody pulp he created miraculously turned back to my unblemished fake form; resetting all dislocated limbs, growing all fractures together until eventually my bruised face once again bears the features of the women he so fatefully adores. 

"Sometimes, I just want to kill you so badly it physically hurts not to act on the impulse," he conceded mirthlessly, confessing to Stillwell rather than my disguised self. It's the weirdest form of therapy I've ever been part of.

"I know," I replied evenly, my hand coming up to gently cup his cheek. Warm, reassuring physical contact always worked wonders in order to placate him. The blond man leaned into my touch in contrite surrender. Truth be told, the real Madelyn, or any other human for that matter, would have died at least half a dozen times under Homelander's unrestrained physical assault that night.

"Hey, it's okay," I cooed softly, strongly sensing his insecurity which tends to be even more fickle and delicate to deal with than his fits of rage, hence immediate distraction was called for.

I slowly seized his hand, encouragingly placing it on my blouse-clad bosom. Homelander's blue eyes darted up to meet my sultry gaze. "Our relationship, the bond between us, is so, so special. It can be difficult at times as we both can be…challenging in our own ways, but beyond all that, I will never question your devotion to me. You _do_ want to make mama happy, don't you?" I questioned seductively. Without breaking eye-contact I bluntly reached for his crotch; the bulge rapidly growing and hardening under my skillful caress, comically tenting the spandex fabric of his superhero suit.

"Yes," he breathed and allowed me to pull him in the direction of my bedroom. The last session we never made it there and I still cringe at the memory of the carpet burns on my knees; the sting of it remarkably painful despite my swift healing abilities. Caught me off-guard, I guess. Anyway, I don't need a repeat performance of that ordeal for sure.

I lost my pencil skirt and knickers on my way towards the double bed, followed by the shimmering white blouse that so enticingly compliments Stillwell's lightly tanned skin. Just as expected, I heard Homelander gasp as he stopped dead in his tracks. Bingo! My latest acquisition all but catered perfectly to his specific, deviant little mommy fetish. I couldn't help but shoot him a smug smile in silent triumph.

"I take it you approve of my latest purchase?" I cooed suggestively while teasingly playing with the loosely fastened flaps on my brand-new nursing bra.

Transfixed, he simply nodded in the affirmative; his eyes glued to my alluringly encased, plump breast I watched him remove his gloves, taking a step closer to me. Probably without even realising it, Homelander licked his lips, his pupils dilating so wide and dark with arousal one could hardly make out the steel-blue irises anymore.

Within a fraction of a second, I found myself supine; the mattress dipping under our combined weight. Mesmerised like a child finally getting hold of a long-yearned toy, Homelander eagerly fiddled with the clasps; giving a happy little grunt as flaps gave way and my perky pink nipples were eventually exposed. A chill went through me, instantly exciting my sensitive buds into stiff, tight peaks as his tongue was wreaking havoc on them mercilessly.

After a little while, quick work was made of the bra in its entirety; luckily I had been considerate enough to specifically pick a bra type that opened in the front.

"Now there's a good boy," I ran my fingers through his golden tresses, idly tracing his neck up and down over and over again as a gesture of unmistakable acknowledgment. Arching my back, my voluptuous breasts heaved under his ardent ministrations of greedy flicking and never-ending suckling; I threw my head back in perverted bliss, a pained hiss evoked at the sensation of his teeth grazing my tortured nipples. The closeted masochist in me jumped with joy at the rough manhandling. Good for me.

"Just imagine all the rich, lukewarm milk I shall give at our next encounter…" I whispered hoarsely, egging him on purposefully.

The vivid visual my words painted on the canvas of his mind did not defeat its purpose; eliciting a strangled grunt from Homelander. He fumbled with his pants and before long slammed into me with a vengeance; the sudden, excruciating stretch making me cry out deliriously.

"Good, Madelyn?" he hissed, completely lost in the illusion and desperately seeking affirmation while slipping his hands under my back and curling over my shoulders, thereby pulling me down into his punishing strokes (and thankfully keeping my head from cracking the headboard like last time) that gradually became more and more ardent. 

I couldn't help but inwardly chuckle to myself – He'd probably split the real Stillwell in half by the first, forceful and hasted thrust alone. Ha, I would pay good money to see that! Oh well, at least that way her obituary could read "She did go with a bang..." No pun intended. Nah, scratch that. Pun intended. Hehe.

"Yessss, my dear boy," I mewled, my eyes going half-lidded as I jerked underneath the blond superhero in the throes of passion; breathlessly mumbling words of praise and encouragement until his plunging turned erratic and he forcefully spilled up inside me only seconds later.

With a growl of satisfaction, he pulled out and rolled on his side next to me. Just like men wont to, sleep claimed him fairly quickly and so I let my mind wander to analyse the twisted dynamics of our mutually selfish arrangement. His sticky essence slowly dribbled out of me; leaving behind an icky, drying crust on my thighs and private parts in its wake. Could I sell that on ebay? Supe groupies go to great length to get their hands (and probably other body parts) on "memorabilia" nowadays, the more exclusive, the pricier. Hm. Maybe next time.

Despite our frenzied coupling, orgasm-ripping as it was, it didn't last long. Homelander hardly ever does last long. It's not a bummer, though. I'm far from qualified as a shrink but the whole thing screams "Oedipus-complex" which is fatally compensated with the unhealthy confusion of the conflicted feelings of a forlorn child with the desires of a grown man… No erection can withstand a guilty consciousness forever.

You know, sometimes, in moments like that, with Homelander curled against my chest in fitful slumber, I almost pity him. Despite all my handy tricks I can't educe love in Stillwell; neither for him, nor anybody else, let alone maternal love which is oh so pure and innocent it makes me sick. As if _me_ of all people could create anything pure at all?! *snort* Fleeting attraction at best; maybe set the stage for a few heated romps in the hay but that's about it. I'm no fucking genie.

So, dear reader, you might ask what the heck is wrong with me? How much of a disgrace and poor excuse of a supe I am for constantly getting really rat-arsed without even having the decency to wallow in on my (non-existent) crapulence afterwards? That I regularly stuff my cake hole with a potpourri of drugs, uppers and other stimulants like others suck cough drops? How I dare bomb feminism back into the stone-age by willingly letting myself being beaten up and taking advantage of an emotionally crippled man-child?

I tell you what. On this day, on this planet, this man is _god_. An easily irritated, vengeful and lethal god with a very, very short fuse and no sense of genuine empathy. Karma's not always a bitch, you know.

Hence, when the time comes he decides to run rampant - and it will come - I'd rather serve a purpose and remain in his good graces.

Wouldn't you?  
  
THE END.

* * *

A/N: Looking forward to your comments/reviews.  
  
  



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